


A Flame in Your Heart

by MintLemonade



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Flirting, Dragons, F/M, Gender-Neutral Apprentice (The Arcana), Lucio has a southern accent no exceptions, M/M, Memory Loss, Pirate Julian, Romantic Fluff, sarcastic reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-31
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-07-27 20:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20051920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MintLemonade/pseuds/MintLemonade
Summary: Lucio's a rowdy traveler who stole a sword from a dragon's lair. You're a magician with only one lead to your mysterious past. When the two of you get together, a lot of unexpected fun happens.(Or, you find love—and answers—in an unlikely place.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I called my friend and rambled about this AU for 4 hours straight (thank you, Tyler). A few months later, I decided to actually write it. I hope you like it!
> 
> I don't want to set the world on fire  
I just want to start a flame in your heart
> 
> (I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire by The Ink Spots)

You wake up abruptly, the ghost of a nightmare sitting heavy in your heart. Something bad is lingering, but all you can remember is fire. Yawning, you push back the bedsheets and crawl to look out of the window, letting the fresh air kiss your face.

Autumn leaves cover the ground, leaving the trees bare. It’s late September, and the cloudy skies give you the perfect excuse to stay in all day.

“Good morning, (Y/N),” Asra calls from the kitchen space. His white hair is tied in a short ponytail, and his back is to you as he stirs something at the stove. Picking up a throw blanket, you wrap it around your shoulders and sit at the table.

“Morning,” you say through another yawn. He was cooking oatmeal—Not your favorite, but whatever. “Do you have any plans today?” Asra wipes syrup off his hand and sits down, placing a wooden bowl in front of you before looking at his own.

“I’m going to visit a friend,” he says, twirling a spoon between his fingers, “And then I’m off to restock herb supplies.”

You pick up your spoon and push at the butter, watching it melt. Whenever he goes off, he never tells you where he’s going or for how long. It’s probably for the best, though, so that you can’t be disappointed if he takes longer than expected. “Okay,” you say with your mouth full. “I’m going apple picking to make pie. I'll save a piece for you, if you want.” You think being open with him will make him feel guilty about being so secretive. But Asra just hums in response and pushes his half empty bowl aside.

There’s an awkward silence, before Asra lights up. “(Y/N), I wanted to give you something!” He pulls a velvet blue bag out of his pocket, and you recognize it right away. “My tarot deck. I suppose a teacher should give their apprentice useful tools, right?” He designed it himself, and it’s his favorite thing in the world—besides his snake familiar, Faust.

You open your mouth to protest but oatmeal spills out. Embarrassed, you quickly wipe it off the table. “Asra, I’m not taking your deck! That’s way too personal. I already sleep in your bed.” He frowns, opening the drawstring pouch and taking out the cards. Immediately you feel its power and presence, shifting uncomfortably in your chair.

Of course over the past three years you’ve learned how to use them, how to really _ listen._ Using yourself and customers as practice, you soon knew each card and what they represent. But_ keeping_ them . . . being responsible for something so important to him? That was a lot. Asra picks a piece of lint off his scarf and frowns thoughtfully. “Hey, how about this?” he says, “Let’s say you’re borrowing them. I want you to keep them while I’m away. If you’re still unsure when I get back, we can try again another time.” He stands up and takes his bowl to the sink and goes down the stairs to the shop. You hear him greet Faust before the front door opens and swings shut. You stare blankly at the cards. They seem to stare back.

~*~

Wandering is usually your favorite activity. It was the first thing you remember doing, after waking up to Asra’s face three years ago. You don’t remember anything before then; whenever you try it just results in nasty headaches. Going out for walks calm them, though. It's usually just finding cool shells and rocks to keep in your drawer at home or counting how many snails you saw on the way to the woods, but there's something meditative about quietly observing nature.

Today is cold, and you have to keep your fingers buried into warm pumpkin bread as you enjoy the treat, nodding at people as they pass by. A small, shiny rock glitters in the corner of your eye, but you frown and push on.

Finishing the bread, you shove your hands in your pockets and come to the skirt of the woods. Vesuvia is mostly water, but if one walked far enough, they would eventually find the forest. It’s pretty, especially during the start of autumn, but the South is _always_ cold and uninviting. You make sure to never go too far. Fog wraps around your ankles as you look for apple trees, tucking your nose behind a grey scarf. Birds sing from the trees, startling a pair of mice that were snacking on wild berries.

You find the apples and open your satchel in excitement._ Maybe I can share the pie with the neighbors _, you think as you grab a shiny red one off its branch.

Soon your bag is full and you spin on your heel to go back home, but something behind you crashes to the ground. “Hello?” you call, turning back. The sound came from by the stream.

What if it’s a wounded animal? Or a lost kid? Tossing aside your bag, you creep forward on high alert. You find the stream and blanch at what you see.

A man with golden blonde hair sits bent over the water, staining it red with blood. His clothes are tattered and dirty, barely clinging to his muscular frame. He desperately washes his face and hand, not noticing you gawking behind him. What really catches your eye, though, is his absence of a left arm and the giant sword beside him.

“Excuse me,” you say, startling him. He turns over and grabs the hilt of his sword, dragging it closer. There’s a gash on his pale chest. You feel the magic in your body swell in your fingertips, ready to protect yourself. “Are you alright?”

“Go away,” he demands. “I don’t need some rando touchin’ me! I’ll be fine!”

Exasperated, you point to his chest. “You’re kind of bleeding out, though.”

He looks down to his wound and then to the sky, passing out. His head falls into the water with a splash. You run to him, taking off the scarf and tying it around his chest and lift him out of the water before kicking away the sword. Maybe with magic you could carry him . . . you stand and decide to give it a try. Eyes closed, you think about what you need him to do. _ Light as a feather _. Bending down, you pick up the man and find he’s extremely light, the magic humming through your hands and into his body.

“Stay right there,” you say to the sword as if it would sprout wings and fly away. Its silver blade glints in the pale sunlight. Carefully but quickly, you turn and rush back into town. 

~*~

After dropping the stranger into your bed (you decided to dub him ‘pomegranate’ due to the small tattoo behind his ear), binding his hand and feet for safety, and going back to retrieve the sword, you get to work on cleaning him up. The medicine kit is kept under the sink in your bathroom. You pull up a chair and sit beside him, cutting off the last of his shirt and your ruined scarf. Pomegranate squirms in his sleep, but doesn’t wake.

Dousing a cloth with antiseptic and wiping him down didn’t take very long, but the hard part was trying to efficiently stitch up the cut while he squirmed. Just as you tie and cut the string, he shoots up, calling out. “Ma!” he cries, straining against the rope. You pull out gauze and medical tape as he looks around. “What the hell?” When you look back up, he’s biting at the rope holding his wrist.

“I still have to put the bandage on,” you say, but Pomegranate ignores you. As if that’s going to work . . . Vesuvians travel around by boat. Of course you know how to tie a knot.

“Lemme go, you wench! Arghh!” You push him down by his stomach, making him yelp out in surprise, and stand over him.

“Look, I’m trying to help you, and I can’t if you keep tearing your stitches! Will you please calm down?” He glares at you, but doesn’t sit back up, so you cut a piece of gauze and finish cleaning him up. “There. Now, who are you?”

He sniffs and looks away. “I don’t have to tell you anything,” he says.

“Okay, well . . . what’s with the sword?” You point back to it where it lays on the table. Pomegranate jumps up again before groaning at the strain on his arm.

“Give that back! I stole it fair and square!” He struggles some more as you walk over to the table. The sword is beautiful and ancient looking, its blade carved with symbols you’ve never seen before. The hilt is bloodied by Pomegranate’s hand, but the red leather wrapped around the bronze is still discernible. You pick it up. “Hey, I said hands off!”

“Oh, this?” You ask, lifting it by its hilt. Stars above, it’s_ heavy _. “I’ll give it back if you tell me where you got it.”

He smirks, but is clearly nervous. “You’ll regret threatening me, but fine. I stole it from some abandoned castle. I heard there was an unimaginable amount of treasure there and had to see for myself. And when I tell you it was a fuckin’ field of gold . . .” he trails off, grey eyes glinting with excitement. You quirk an eyebrow. A field of gold? Abandoned castle? This sounds like a fairytale. Pomegranate shakes off his daydream. “Anyway, I took as much as I could carry, along with that sword. But on the way back, some low-life highwaymen took my gold, my prosthetic, and managed to rough me up. I killed one of them and the rest ran like cowards.”

Throughout the story, you only manage to half-listen. Where around here is there another castle? It sounds so familiar. A drawer in the crooked dresser creaks behind you, opening slightly. You walk over, finding Asra’s socks and shirts. Under one of the tunics is a journal. He wouldn’t like you going through his things, but curiosity peaks your interest and you pick it up. The cover is green leather bound, with aged pages stained with ink and a faint herbal scent.

“What’s that?” the man asks. “You act like you’ve never seen it before.”

“Because I haven’t,” you murmur. On the first page, the words _Property of Aisha and Salem_ are scrawled in red ink.

The more you flip through, the more you assume that this is a record book. The plague that hit Vesuvia long ago, when Queen Nadia came into power, and various other dates. Finally, something catches your attention. “Listen to this!” you say, sitting on the bed. “‘_ About a month ago, the third kingdom was attacked by the last known dragon on earth. The few survivors fled to the surrounding countries, Praka and Vasuvia. Denalia, known for its creation of fine silks and jewelry is now home to this merciless, fascinating beast.’ _” The more you read, the more a dull pain grows in the back of your head. You slam the book close.

Pomegranate’s eyes are blown wide. “You—you mean the castle I went to has a fuckin’ dragon in its walls?!” he yells.

“Are you saying you went to Denalia?”

He nods, nervous. “What of it?”

And what of it indeed? All of the books studying dragon remains and behavior say that they’re incredibly protective, greedy creatures. “If you went into the ruins of Denalia and took anything from that castle, and the dragon notices it’s missing?” Your fingers are pale from how tightly you’re holding the journal. “We could be in big trouble.”

He barks a laugh. “Oh, man, that’s rich! You think that dumb dragon is gonna notice one tiny stack of treasure missing in that castle? There was too much.”

You close your eyes and rub your temples, trying to sooth the pulsing headache. Something about Denalia sounds familiar, but you can’t put your finger on it. “No, you don’t understand. Dragons, they—what do they have to do in an empty country except eating cows and lounging? Surely they count their coins.” The room falls silent as he thinks.

“So whaddya expect me to do?” he asks quietly. The cards in your pocket suddenly grow heavy, and something tells you that they have answers. You pull out the deck and lay it on the bed, pulling the top two cards and facing them up.

The Tower, reversed. The Fool. “Destruction . . . inevitable disaster,” you mumble, piecing it together. “The way is uncertain.”

“Hey, what does that mean?” he asks, leaning over you. “What’s uncertain?”

“Shut up, I’m trying to think!” Putting all the cards back together, you shuffle them and place a hand on top. “We need to know what this man needs to keep the dragon at bay.” You pull a card and lay it face up. The Magician stares up at you, silent.

“That’s you, right?” says Pomegranate. “You do card tricks. Can you untie me now?”

That can’t be right. You shuffle the deck once more. “It must be talking about Asra.” Then, to the deck, “We need to know what this man needs. Courage? Patience?” The energy of the arcana swells in your hands and you pull a card. Flipping it over, you see that you accidentally chose two. The Magician. The Fool, reversed.

“Your doing that on purpose,” the man says. “Stop pulling the same card.”

“I think—” you frown at the thought, “I think they _ are _ talking about me! Why in the world do you need _ me? _”

He snorts. “I don’t! Look, you can have the stupid sword. Just let me go and I’ll disappear.”

“No way. You’re the one who started this mess and you have to make it right.” He struggles with his constraints, screaming in frustration. You gather the deck and stand, leaving to the shop. As the door swings to a close, you hear him.

“Let me out!” he cries. “I don’t want to face a dragon! I can’t!”

~*~

For the next hour, you were occupied asking the cards to clarify, shaking your head, and asking again. They have to mean Asra, right? He’s more in control of magic than you could ever hope to be. When you asked if they meant him, the deck showed you the Fool card. ‘_ The way is uncertain, but you have all the tools _’. The aura was comforting, encouraging even. But you just didn’t feel confident. And whenever you try to think of where you heard of Denalia, the painful ache would return. Eventually you come to a decision. If you go with this guy to return the sword, you could find out what’s bothering you about it—why it sounds so familiar.

Gathering the cards and returning them to the bag, you feel a relaxing flow of energy fill the room. It's obviously happy with your choice.

Opening the door to your home, you find the man leaning against the headboard of the bed, looking out the window at the setting sun. He turns when you come in, and suddenly his look of discontent returns. “I’m hungry,” he says.

“You must be. I’ll make soup with leftover broth.” Going to the sink, you start to wash your hands with soap.

“Have you decided what to do with me? Gonna feed me to the dragon as a sacrifice?” You shudder at the thought of a dragon eating a human easily as if he were a cracker.

“No. We’re going to return the sword before it wreaks havoc on Earth. And _ I’m _going to get answers.” He groans, as if being eaten were a better choice. “But before we do that, I need us to be one-hundred percent honest with each other, okay? For starters, I’m (Y/N).” You pull carrots and onions out of the pantry, watching him frown.

“I don’t like onions,” he says. Rolling your eyes, you put them away. “Fine, look. I’m Lucio. And could you please, _please_ untie me? I don’t need my other arm fallin’ off.”

Lucio, huh? Not even close to pomegranate, but it’ll do.

~*~

The second Lucio was untied he jumped into the bath and used Asra’s things to shave, and it kind of annoys you how quickly he made himself at home. You eat in silence, both lost in thought about the journey ahead and what you did to deserve this mess.

“Where should I sleep?” Lucio asks, breaking the quiet. You blink at him, confused. “There’s only one bed and no couch. Where am I crashing, magician?”

Heat rises to your cheeks and you duck your head. You actually haven’t thought of that. Asra likes saving space because the house was only so big, and that meant sharing a bed whenever he’s at home. “I’ll sleep on the floor, it’s whatever,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow at you before shrugging, slurping down the rest of his soup and standing up.

“So be it, then.” He tosses the bowl into the sink and begins to kick off his muddy shoes before working at his belt.

“W-what are you doing?!” You hold out a hand, magic rushing through your body and stopping him in his tracks. Lucio’s body goes stiff, hands hovering over his laces.

“Um.” His eyes dart around as if this is a joke. “Getting ready for bed . . .?” You release the spell and he loses balance, falling back into the bed. He winces at the pull at his mending wounds. “What was that for?” Lucio whines and kicks his pants off before climbing into bed. He snuggles under the covers, pulling them up to his nose. He looks like a sleepy bird.

The truth? You’ve never slept in the same room as anyone besides Asra. He didn’t even undress like this—by the time you came out of the bathroom he’d already be in bed. Such bold acts aren’t expected (but not entirely unwelcome). “It’s nothing. Let’s go to sleep.” You grab a blanket out of the cupboard and hit the lights.

~*~

In the morning you feel like absolute shit. Something’s weighing down on your chest, and a small wheeze is all you could get out to breath. Opening your eyes, you’re met with a mess of blonde hair and Lucio’s nose tucked into your shoulder._ Right. _

Last night you got cold on the floor, waking up freezing with your legs exposed to the autumn chill. You figured that climbing into bed wouldn’t hurt, and that maybe Lucio would stay on his own side of the bed. Obviously you were wrong.

Lucio stirs. He’s almost completely on top of you, right arm tucked under you to hold you by the waist. Despite his muffled snoring and damp hair, he’s like a weighted blanket. But still—boundaries. You shove him by his shoulder and he jolts awake, rolling away from you. “What?” he says, clearly irritated. “I’m trying to sleep . . .” he squirms backwards to try and cuddle but you jump out of bed, stretching.

“It’s time to get ready,” you say, “We need an audience with the queen.”

“Queen of what?”

You cock an eyebrow. “Of Vesuvia . . .?” Filling a bowl with water, you dip a washcloth into it and start to wash your face. Lucio rolls out of bed with a _ thud _ and crawls over, grabbing the cloth from your hands and starting to scrub his face.

“Do you have any makeup?” He asks, clambering to his feet and handing back the cloth. Your eyebrows furrow in question but you point to the drawer where you keep it all. Lucio opens it and starts digging around, humming a tune from some traveling theatre troupe. He pulls out select materials before grinning and disappearing into the bathroom with his clothes, and a coat that was hanging on the doorknob. 

You take out your most comfortable outfit for all of the walking ahead and eye Asra’s deck uncomfortably before tying the bag to your belt. By the time you’ve finished your normal morning routine, now including moving around Lucio to brush your teeth, the sun is fully in the sky. 

Lucio finally comes out of the bathroom, all made up and grinning. His eyeliner trails off his lower lash line and curves like an uppercase _J _in script. He’s got red eyeshadow, and you’re certain his lips look fuller than yesterday. He actually looks handsome and polished, like some kind of prince. You don’t tell him that, though, because it would go straight to his head. “So, which way is the palace?” He asks, running a finger over the blade of the sword. 

Oh right, that thing. You grab a blanket and begin to wrap it. “Pumpkin bread first, then the castle.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You present your case to the queen and receive a gift.

On the way to the castle, you bump into the queen’s personal assistant. “Portia!” you say, recognizing her fiery hair. Portia looks up from her letter and smiles, tossing coins to the mailman.

“(Y/N)!” she says, spreading her arms to receive a hug. You lean into it, smiling. “What are you doing all the way over here?” She looks up at Lucio and her expression turns dark. “I think some creepy guy is following you . . .”

“Hey!” Lucio barks, grabbing the collar of your shirt. “We’re traveling together!”

Portia gives him a once over and crosses her arms. “I didn’t know you picked up crazy people, (Y/N).” He gasps.

Laughing, you wave a hand between them. “It’s fine, we just have something to discuss with the queen. It’s kind of important.” You tilt your head to the wrapped weapon in your hands. Portia nods and taps her chin.

“Hm. Well, lucky for you, I was just heading back. I’ll get you guys in.” She takes the lead in your little line and starts up the seemingly endless flight of stairs.

~*~

The castle towers over all of Vesuvia at the top of a hill. It’s beautiful with thousands of windows, giving you a glimpse into the luxury inside, and you suddenly start to feel nervous. Tugging at your shirt, you worry about how the people will look at you. There’s a sparkling gate guarded by two men in armor. Portia gestures quickly to the castle, and then to you and Lucio. The gate opens enough for the three of you to slip inside, and Lucio winks at the guard on the left. “Milady should be free around now, but are you _ sure  _ it’s important? She doesn’t really like being interrupted—”

“This is life or death, Portia. I’d really appreciate it if we could see her  _ now _ .” You brush Portia’s arm and she blushes, her smile widening.

“Then it’s no problem!” You stop in the garden. There are flowers and plants of every variety, but they look dull from the grey sky and upcoming winter. Trees are shedding their leaves, and birds are leaving empty nests behind. Something about it makes you sad—you’ll never be able to see it come back in the spring if the dragon destroys everything. Portia climbs marble steps and enters a glass door that’s covered by thick, purple curtains.

“This place is  _ nice _ ,” Lucio says, turning to take it all in. “Way better than your stuffy shed. Could use more red, though.”

You roll your eyes. “Well, criticize it while you can. We won’t be here long.” While Lucio sniffs around, you watch him carefully. He’s so dramatic and cheerful. Even after everything he’s been through in the past year. What  _ has  _ he been through, anyways? “Hey,” you say. Lucio pops up from behind a rose bush, dead petals decorating his hair. “Why did you go traveling? Like . . .” you sit down on the steps, trying to find the right words. “Who were you before you found Denalia?”

Lucio frowns, suddenly looking nervous. “What are ya, a cop?” You quirk an eyebrow. “ _ Fine _ . I was a mercenary, movin’ all around to fight and get paid. What about you? What did you do before learning card tricks?”

Ouch. Now its your turn to be nervous. “I don’t remember. I started three years ago. And before that, there was nothing,” you say matter-of-factly. Lucio reaches up and twirls a piece of your hair, tugging on it. “Ow!”

“I was just making sure you aren’t some kinda creature made in the lab. That’d be kinda gross.”

You start to protest, but then you realize he’s right. How do you know that you aren’t? Asra won’t tell you anything about your past, and you can’t find any clues to a life before him. Lucio seems to notice and scoots closer, crowding you with warmth. You feel your body relax; the sword slips out of your aching arms and clatters on the floor as the door swings open.

Portia pokes her head out of the window and beckons inside. Lucio grabs the sword by its handle and follows you inside. It looks like some kind of tea room. There’s a round mahogany table in the middle, with cushioned chairs placed around it. Beautiful paintings of the courier’s buildings are hung around the room, and the smell of honey and flowers fill the air.

Sitting at the table and watching you intently is the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. Queen Nadia’s sharp, red eyes stand out against her brown skin and ombre purple hair. She’s wearing a green and white dress that spills over the side of her chair and emerald jewelry to match. You and Lucio slowly take your seats, awestruck. “Good day,” Nadia says, her voice low and smooth. “And who might you two be?”

“I’m (Y/N), your majesty, and this is Lucio. I’m an apprentice under Asra. Have you heard of him?”

At that, she lights up. “Oh, of course. Asra and I have been friends for years. How is he?”

“Good, but that’s not what we’re here for. It’s because of  _ this _ .” You point to Lucio who holds out the sword. The tea cup slips from Nadia’s fingers and it falls. Portia dives and catches it just in time, catches the tea before it even spills. “You know this sword, right?”

“I don’t understand,” Nadia mumbles, standing up and taking the sword. You and Lucio share a nervous look. “This is the royal sword from Denalia. I haven’t seen this in years. How did you get your hands on it?” The sword reflects light, shining proudly at the recognition.

Lucio leans forward in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. He starts from waking up in your shop, and all the things he learned about the castle and the dragon. “(Y/N) says we have to put it back, but the rest of the treasure went missin’.” Nadia nods, running her hand over the smooth side of the blade. Her nails scrape gently against the metal.

“That might be true, but this is the best bet we have to restore peace. I don’t know it either of you study dragons, but they go into hibernation during winter time. If you start your journey now, he should be asleep by the time you get there. Return the sword and escape with haste.”

“And if he’s awake?” Lucio asks, face pale.

Nadia looks between the two of you, handing the sword to you before sitting back down. “You managed it once. I’m sure you can get away with it again. Portia?”

Portia pops up next to you, with her usual cheery expression, but something is different. She looks a lot more grim, like the rest of you all. “Yes, milady?”

“Please show Lucio and (Y/N) to the guest chambers. Clean them up and find suitable clothes for their travels.” She directs her attention back to you and smiles. You fluster at her charm. “I hope you don’t mind if I spoil my guests for one night. You are risking your lives for the sake of the world, after all.”

Lucio asks, “While you’re at it, do you have any spare arms lyin’ around?” You swat his arm, but Nadia laughs.

“We’ll see.”

~*~

Portia leads you down the halls of the castle as the sun dips behind the mountains, leading you to the guest bedrooms. “Here you are,” she says, handing you a key. “There’ll be a maid to fetch you when the bath is ready.”

“Thank you, Portia. I’ll see you in the morning.” Impatient, Lucio grabs the key and swings open the door. Portia rolls her eyes, hair swinging as she turns and disappears down the hall.

Just like the tea room, the guest room is beautiful. The only problem . . . “One bed again?!” you cry, dropping the sword onto the sofa. Lucio dances around the room, feeling the silk curtains and looking into the cooler for drinks. He pulls out a bottle of wine and grins.

“Now  _ this  _ is the life I deserve to live!” he cries, hugging the wine. “I’m so happy. I never want to leave.” You can’t help but smile and sit on the bed, surprised when you sink into the softest surface you’ve ever felt. The plush matress is cool, calling out for you to relax after a long day of walking. “(Y/N), open this for me.” Lucio tosses you the bottle and you barely catch it.

“Sure, thanks for asking so politely.” You twist the cork and pluck it off, crinkling your nose at the strong smell. Lucio snatches it back and takes a swig before handing it back. “No, thanks.”

He frowns. “You’re not  _ allowed _ to say no. This whole time you’ve been worrying and acting responsible! Take advantage while you can, sweet pea.” You take the bottle he’s shoved in your face and take a hesitant sip. There’s a pleasant, warm rush, and your fingers feel like they’re tingling. It could be the fact that you barely drink, but this wine tastes strong. You take a gulp, and then another, before Lucio grabs it back. “Hey! Leave some for me!” He sinks onto the carpet and tips his head back, swallowing half the bottle in one languid breath.

“Holy shit,” you murmur. Lucio smirks and wipes his chin.

“That’s a little trick I learned on the road.” He jumps into a story about a bar fight, using his hands to illustrate the swings and flying chairs. You grab a pillow and tuck it under your chin, letting the drink seep in and take effect. You’ve never had a wine this strong, but you begin to wonder if someone mixed it with other things for exactly that purpose. The tingling sensation spreads to your chest, and you feel fuzzy and ready to pass out. Lucio’s speech becomes louder and more slurred as he rambles. “So I took ‘im by the color— _ collar _ , and was all, ‘you messed with the wrong man’ and threw ‘im out the window! I’m amazing!” He laughs, leaning forward to rest his forehead on your knees. “They kicked me out and made me pay for the window. I was broke for two weeks.”

You nod, even though he can’t see you, eyes trained on his neck. His hair looks like it’s in need of a cut, with some parts of the back growing longer than others. Absentmindedly, you brush your fingers through Lucio’s hair and he stiffens. It’s surprisingly soft. You scratch his scalp as you card through his pale gold hair, lost in the way it shines. Before you know it he’s melting, cheek nestled in your lap as his eyes droop shut. You run your thumb over his pomegranate tattoo and wonder why you gave up the name.

There’s a knock on the door, startling you out of your trance. “The baths are ready,” a soft voice calls.

“Lucio.” You pat his cheek. He lets out a quiet snore. You cup your hands around his ear and yell, “Hey!” He jolts up, knocking into your face as he does.

“What was that for?!” he whines, rubbing his head. When he seems to remember what he was doing, his ears flush a soft pink as he scrambles to his feet. There’s another knock on the door and he rushes to open it, lighting up when he sees the robes in the maid’s hand. “It’s bath time!” He grabs the larger robe and begins to drunkenly struggle out of his boots. It takes you longer to get to the door, because the world is spinning a little and you don’t want to fall over.

“Thank you,” you say and take the robe. When you turn around, Lucio’s already in his robe with his clothes scattered on the ground. The two of you follow the maid to the bath house.

Steam rushes out of the room when she opens the door. It’s humid and hazy, with pale tile floors and a bath almost the size of a pool. The ceiling is tall and arches to a point, decorated with patterns and colors on the wall. The moon shines through a window and makes the bath shimmer. The bath itself is colored pink with scattered roses and frothing bubbles. “We took the liberty of adding bath salts and bubbles,” the maid says, clearly pleased with herself. “You will find towels and soap in the cabinets. Please enjoy.” She bows and scurries out of the room. You plan on it, too. Never in your life have you taken a bath this nice. Beginning to strip, you fold your clothes and drop them by the door, leaving you in your undergarments.

“Cannonball!” Lucio yells, landing in the water with a loud splash. He comes to the surface grinning, wiping the makeup off his face and spitting water. You try not to look at his lack of clothing and wait until he’s turned to finish undressing and slip into the water. You sit on one of the steps and cover yourself with bubbles, feeling the tension in your legs melt away. “This is so much fun!” Lucio swims across the pool in a breaststroke style.

Red in the face, you dunk your head underwater and squeeze your eyes shut, letting the water take away the dirt from today’s journey. You know you won’t be getting another opportunity in a long time. Something grabs you by the shoulder and drags you above water. You begin to swing, panicked, but Lucio grabs your fist and shakes it. “Be careful with this thing!” he says. With your free hand, you cover yourself the best you can. “Oh, stop. They’re jus’ bodies. Even though yours is super cute.” he winks shamelessly.

“My head hurts from how stupid that line was,” is all you can say.

“Aw. Can you wash my hair, (Y/N)?” He turns and sits on a lower step, so that the water goes up to his shoulders. “Apparently you have magic fingers. I could fall asleep all over again.”

Sitting above him, you grab a bottle of shampoo and pour some in your palm. “All the things I do for you,” you mumble. You begin to massage the purple liquid into his hair, watching it turn white and foamy. Lucio sighs and leans back into your hands, a smile on his thin lips.

“I could sit like this forever,” he says.

“Oh, really?”

He gestures around. “What’s not to like? I’m in a luxurious bath, drunk, and being tended to by an attractive magician.” You yank your hands away in surprise and he goes falling back. “What? No! Don’t stop!”

“If we’re gonna work together, you need to control this ‘constant flirting because I’m lonely’ thing,” you say, taking a cup and filling it with water. You spill it over Lucio’s head and rinse out the shampoo. It’s not like the flirting isn’t nice. It’s actually kind of fun, and you like the attention. But something inside you only wants to flirt if you know it’s real. That the person actually means it. And Lucio seems like this comes as easy as breathing to him.

“Fine, okay. Jeez.” He dunks his head underwater and comes back up glaring. “I’m getting out now!” Like a pouting child, Lucio stomps up the steps and out of the bath, grabbing his robe and shrugging it on before finding a towel to wrap around his hair. He disappears into the changing room. Shrugging, you finish washing yourself with soap and shampoo.

You linger until your fingers prune and the water turns lukewarm. After some time, you get out and dry yourself off, putting on the robe and finding your way back to the guest room. 

Inside, the lights are turned off, just as you hoped. Lucio is curled up on one side of the bed and he’s hugging a decorative pillow. He’s almost completely hidden under the sheets, snoring soundly. You creep past the bed and to the balcony, opening the door and slipping outside. Looking up at the moon, you sigh deeply and try to wind down from the wine. In the distance, you notice a small trail of smoke coming from far into the forest.

Your muscles tense. Is that the dragon? Is it coming closer? Has it lost its patience and— _ no.  _ No, you still have time. Sucking in a deep breath, you decide that the smoke is just a camper in the South. 

Because a dragon would shake the trees and ground with just one step. 

Smoke would fill your lungs, strangling you slowly. 

A resounding screech would shake your bones and chill your blood.

How do you know any of this? Rubbing your temples, you try to keep the upcoming headache at bay. You turn and head back inside, closing the doors behind you and climbing into bed. Lucio grumbles and turns on his side, facing you. His warmth is tempting, but you furrow your brows and lay on your back. You stare at the ceiling until you fall asleep.

~*~

In the morning, there are clothes waiting for you on the dresser. A thick coat, baggy ankle pants, boots, and even a travel bag. You put on your shirt from yesterday and get dressed in the new things. You look around for Lucio before finding a note tacked to the door. It says,  _ Come down to breakfast on the second floor! - Portia :) _ .

After asking three different servants, you find the dining room. There’s a whole feast set up on the table, and at the head of it is Queen Nadia with Lucio on her left, who’s wolfing down a stack of pancakes. “Good morning, (Y/N). We have much to discuss.” Nadia gestures to the seat next to her and you take it. Lucio stops eating just long enough to acknowledge you.

“Lucio, your arm!” You point at his wooden prosthetic that’s resting on the table. Lucio grins and waves the hand.

“I know! It’s not as comfortable as my last one, but made better. Look.” He uses his left hand to bend the wooden wrist. You sit straighter in your chair, eager to try something.

“Do you want me to make it work?”

“What?” Lucio asks but reaches out anyways. You place one hand on his arm where the prosthetic is connected, and the other on the fingers. Nadia watches with quiet interest as you close your eyes and try to focus on life and and animation. The magic hums through your body, bleeding through your fingertips and into the wood. Suddenly the fingers beneath your hand twitch. “Holy shit!” Lucio jerks back, holding up his arm and waving it around. He jumps out of the chair and does a little spin, flexing and wiggling the fingers as if they were his own. “Oh, my magician is the best!”

You scoff through a smile. “Your  _ what _ ?” A blush stains your cheeks. While Lucio celebrates, Nadia touches your arm.

“(Y/N), I hope you find our preparations suitable for your travel,” she says. “But I have one more thing for you.” She reaches into a pouch and pulls out an emerald amulet. There’s magical energy coming from the gem as it softly glows. “This was made for me long ago, as a gift. With it you will never get lost. It leads you to where you need to be.” She picks it up and wraps it around your neck, clasping the hook.

“I don’t know what to say, your majesty.” You touch the amulet and a flash goes through your head.  _ Here _ , it says.

“Simply say that you will do whatever it takes to do keep us all safe. What else do you need? Knights? A carriage?”

You feel tempted to say yes, but shake your head. “No. The more things we have to account for, the slower we are.”

You all finished your food and bid the queen farewell before setting off. Portia says she’ll lead you out, and keeps behind you until you’re back at the stairs. “I wanted to wait until we were out of earshot to say this. I can get you guys a ride!”

“Oh, great!” Lucio says, “How will we be traveling?”

“My brother, Ilya. He travels with the woman who’s raised us since I was, like, four. Have you heard of Mazelinka?”

Lucio almost drops his bag. “The pirate queen?! You’re telling me—”

“They’re stopping by in about thirty minutes to stock up on medicine and food. Just tell them I sent you, and give my brother this.” Portia holds out a letter that’s sealed with a wax stamp. You take it and give her a hug. For a small person, Portia has a strong grip.

“Thank you, Portia. Are you sure you don’t want to come to the docks to say hello?” She looks like she really wants to, but glances back at the castle. “Oh, right. You’re on the job.”

“This is great and all, but if that ship is coming soon then we need to get going.” Lucio cuts in. He pulls you away by your shoulders, glaring down at Portia over your shoulder. “Thank you, gingersnap, but we’ll be off.”

“Who are you calling gingersnap?” Portia demands. You sigh. Are these two ever going to get along? “Anyways. Bye, (Y/N)!” With that, she turns and heads back up the trail to the gates, leaving you and Lucio alone. He releases you from his grip and spins on his heel, marching silently towards the stairs. With one glance back to the beautiful, safe castle, you grab the amulet. It whispers,  _ Follow him. _

So you do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this chapter!! writing subtly jealous lucio is my favorite...   
what are your thoughts on the newest chapter? i love the bonus art and the adventure, but the pacing of the story is a little rushed. 
> 
> come yell at me on tumblr @mintdreamy.


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